Beasts of Blame by Nature
by Cosmo-Donatien
Summary: He promised her she need only say the words and he would leave forever. [Lizzington]
1. Chapter 1

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE **

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

_You've made your decision _  
_Now get up and leave _

Blue eyes brimming with angry tears, she had told him to leave. He had told her long ago that all she ever needed to do was say the word and he would be gone. He had never anticipated that she might call his bluff, yet here he found himself about to board his jet, never to return. He had anticipated a reaction from her, but not one quite so strong; while the redness had faded from his face he still heard the crack of her slap echo in his mind and felt the bruise forming along his cheekbone.

_The familiar sting _  
_Of the woodcutter's swing _  
_To the tree _

Unblinking, he stared out of the window at the passing landscape of the airfield, the darkening skies matching his mood. He had always kept his options open while working with the FBI, and leaving was always on the table; now that it had become reality he found the fine brandy in his glass didn't taste the same and he found no pleasure in it, just as the prospect of moving on to pastures new held no inkling of fun.

He hadn't expected it to hurt quite so much.

* * *

_I'll fall in the forest _  
_To elbows and knees _

She'd spent the evening huddled at the top of the stairs, thinking over the events of the day. He was gone and it was her fault. She had meant what she said at the time, lack of sleep and an unbalanced emotional state only serving to fuel her ire; she hadn't listened to him as he tried to explain himself, hadn't paused to notice the desperate edge to his voice, she had only been able to lash out in anger and grief.

_It won't make a sound _  
_Since there's no one around _  
_Here to see _

The sting of the slap of hindsight still hadn't left her, and realisation of just what she had done began to settle over her like a suffocating shroud; with Red gone the team would almost certainly be shut down by Fowler, and that it was her fault he was gone meant she would most likely be out of a job. How could she have been so selfish? She wept quietly in the darkness of her empty house; she had nothing.

She hadn't expected it to hurt quite so much.

* * *

_The spirit has left again _  
_So lie to yourself _

He would put her from his mind, get on with business; hard-eyed, cool, calm and calculating as ever. His business was his life's work, and when the time came for him to retire he would disappear off the face of the planet once again – even Fitch and his clients wouldn't be able to find him. He would have his luxuries, indulge his whims, and otherwise carry on as though the whole business with the FBI had never occurred. He did not fear reprisals.

_Put them old records on _  
_And admit that it's gone _  
_Somewhere else _

A sudden pang of spite flashed through him at the thought of faking his own death – a feat he was most accomplished at, though had never actually needed to action – and ensuring that the news reached her. He quickly quashed the thought, knowing it would achieve nothing.

* * *

_Just because we're beasts of blame by nature _  
_It doesn't mean that you should carry it again _

On waking – not that she felt she had slept at all – regret washed over her in great crashing waves, testing her still feeble emotional state. Cold, she went through the motions of her morning routine; she showered, her tears mingling with the spray as she stared numbly at the drain, her ears deaf to her own wracking sobs.

_It's a question of needs _  
_And not rosary beads _  
_In the end _

She had known he was the key to her past, yet she had still sent him away. He had shown her the truth in her husband's lies, had helped her remove Tom from her life and encouraged her to move forward, to feel comfortable on her own and let go of the belief that living alone automatically meant she would be lonely. He had quieted the demons of her past and yet, with a few short words she had terminated their acquaintance. He had admitted to his part in her adoptive father's death, had told her it was what Sam had wanted, and she just couldn't process it. Now, as the truth of his words sunk in she found herself wishing he was there to answer her questions, to reassure her and to preserve the only shred of normality she had – him. She shut the shower off with a bleary half-smile at the realisation that Number Four on the FBIs Most Wanted list was the only normality in her life.

* * *

_You were the coldest star in the sky _  
_But I couldn't see it _  
_I was blind _

He felt despondent. He was alone, which was nothing new for him, except now he was acutely aware of it. Another large glass of his prized Petrus Merlot had his thoughts turning melancholy – overdramatically he considered he might as well be dying. His emotions flitted from indignant to forlorn to dejected, his certain attitude had deserted him where Elizabeh Keen was concerned. Even the wine didn't taste as it should. All sense of vibrancy had left him. On the few occasions he had left his accommodation without his trademark shades, Dembe had raised a heavy brow at the dark rings beneath his eyes though he had wisely remained silent. Still, Red felt the weight of his friend's concern and it irritated him. He just wanted to be left well enough alone.

* * *

_In comes the black night _  
_Calling your name since you were born _

Even as a child she had never believed in fairytale endings; she was far too realistic and practical for them to make any sense to her. She was never the princess, or the damsel in distress – she couldn't relate to them at all – but now she felt distress and helplessness like never before, and while he was never exactly a knight in shining armour she had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Red would always come to her aid… and now, when she had practically thrown it all back in his face without thinking, she finally realised that she needed him far more than he needed her. She not only needed him to come back, to hold everything together, but she wanted him to come back… she wanted the witty remarks, the biting sarcasm, the humour, the suits, the fedora, that penetrating stare that told her he knew her better than she did. She wanted him, and at the realisation she felt her heart break all over again.

Totally dispirited, the numbness abated to reveal her anxiety levels were through the roof at the thought of returning to work. Perhaps she could feign all knowledge of his disappearance and claim he was likely just attending to his business, expecting his return in forty-eight hours or so along with the rest of the team? Maybe she could convince him to return in that time. She tried calling Nick's Pizza but the number was no longer operational, bringing it all back home just how much she had screwed up. Her ears grew hot with shame and a fresh slew of tears blurred her vision; blinking desperately to prevent them falling she attempted to think more rationally. She needed to cover her ass. She could buy some time at work, but not much. She needed a plan.

* * *

_I couldn't hear it _  
_I was empty as a drum _

Of course, his own demons came to assault him when his guard was down in slumber. She reminded him of everything he had lost, the hefty cost of his choices; his family. She had, in a roundabout way, come to represent not only his second chance in terms of immunity, but a second chance at life – his freedom meant nothing without her, and his subconscious mind taunted him with the fact throughout the night, leaving him lethargic and moody during the day. Theirs had never been a conventional relationship; he had practically thrust himself into the light of her attention and coerced her into knowing him, after all, but he found he wasn't quite prepared to let it go just yet. Thoughts of spite and bitterness gave way to longing for a simpler life, such as he used to have.

He couldn't keep away too long. While not physically close he still kept an eye on her movements, kept his ear to the ground for news of the trundling behemoth that was the FBI; they'd not pose a problem for him again, of that he was sure. He would leave the States soon, and remain outside of it for the foreseeable future. Perhaps he'd find another bottle of the 1982 Petrus to replace the one he'd so carelessly drained without so much as a pause to appreciate it; he had not been himself.

* * *

_I was prepared to love you _  
_And never expect anything of you _

She resolved to find him off her own back. With no new Blacklister to hunt down she was able to take some vacation time. She sat in her living room, the FBI dossier on Red and a roadmap spread out on the coffee table, different coloured marker pens ready to circle, point and question; she was sure he was still in the States… but where?

Fuelled by the adrenaline rush of her, some might argue reckless, decision she pondered that nothing was really worth it without him around. There was no fun in it. She wanted fun, and unwavering trust, and variation; all the things she didn't have but wanted so desperately he embodied. Once she had him she would decide whether to bring him in or give into the growing need for him to help her disappear. She had made so many mistakes, telling him to leave being the biggest in the grand scheme of things. A fresh start was just what she needed; she would beg him if she had to.

_There's no patron saint _  
_Of silent restraint _

Twenty-four hours later saw her heading to a nondescript airfield. She had woven a sob story, taking a leaf out of Madeline Pratt's book, and said that her husband intended to leave with her children in the middle of their divorce proceedings – it had helped that she was so emotionally unstable on the call – she had given out the details of the jet and waited. Sure enough, a call had come through and she was in the car, pulling away from her house before the call had ended.

She arrived at the airfield in time to see the jet taxiing on the small runway. She stepped out of the car and watched as it took off into the sunset horizon. Rather than feel defeated she smiled – she hadn't felt so alive for a long time – and she considered the state of her sanity as she thought of what she needed to do next. The savings she had squirreled away for years would only get her so far, so she needed to act quickly if she wanted to catch up to him. A quick call to the tower attendant had his destination confirmed. She hung up the call and smiled at the horizon; a new game had begun, and for once she felt like he wasn't holding all the cards.

_There ain't no sword in our lake _  
_Just a funeral wake_

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Weights & Measures' by Dry The River. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.


	2. Chapter 2

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE**

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

_Don't hold yourself like that,_  
_You'll hurt your knees_

She managed to blag her way into his suite after tracking him to Florence; she knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to stick around long before moving on. Once inside the door she looked around appreciatively, lingering near his suits; only now did she realise how she missed his scent, something she never noticed when they had worked so closely. She decided the vanity by the bay window overlooking the Arno was the best spot to leave her note of apology – the olive branch to let him know she was in the locale should he wish to find her; it seemed inappropriate to leave it on the pillow and anywhere else might escape notice, except perhaps the sink in the bathroom, though that would have just been plain bizarre and her intent was not to amuse. Preparing to leave she gave the note a cursory read over:

_You once said if I ever needed you, whatever you were doing and wherever you were, you'd be there for me. I know I have made a terrible mistake; I need you more than I realised before, and I understand that your actions were the result of my father's decision. My anger at your honesty was misplaced, and for that I can only-_

The swoosh of a key card at the door heralded his unexpected return to the suite; she hissed a curse before escaping through the doors to the balcony into the chill night air. Peeking through the voile covered windows she saw he was not alone; a woman, not especially striking in her features, followed him into the suite and glanced around appreciatively. Liz observed as he poured two drinks and offered one to his guest; Liz's profiling mind found it strange that they weren't especially chatty – it wasn't like him to keep his mouth shut – and concluded that they didn't know each other at all well. She perceived a definite air of awkwardness between them. The woman declined his offer of a seat on the couch, waving toward the bed instead. He followed her over to it, tossing his fedora on to the vanity table, covering Liz's note completely. She watched as he shrugged off his suit jacket, loosened his shirt cuffs and began to pull off his tie; realisation dawned on her as the lights dimmed and the woman came to take over the task of undressing him. The voice at the back of Liz's mind screamed at her to find any way down from the balcony, or just look away, but she found herself transfixed by the events unfolding in the suite.

* * *

_I kissed your mouth and back _  
_But that's all I need_

She had no problem with this guy; he had complimented her on her features, though not salaciously, before soliciting her – he appeared to be a perfect gentleman and when he said he'd rather she wasn't blonde and that he wanted her to go by 'Lizzie', she wasn't one to argue. She was regretting the wig now as her scalp itched persistently, but it was at his request and he was paying her more than she'd charged anybody before.

Truth be told, she felt sorry for him. Whoever his Lizzie was she evidently meant the world to him if the attention he was lavishing on her was anything to go by. As she plied her trade she wondered just what had happened. Dead wife? No, it wasn't that kind of sadness – she knew that one well, had seen it often enough. Maybe he'd done something? Was he guilty of was she? No man that adoring had cheated, surely? Her eyes snapped to the window – had something moved out there? He hadn't said anything about anybody else being there with them, but she was sure a shadow had shifted beyond the voile. If anybody was getting off on it out there, she'd be sure to charge extra; she bit her lip to keep the smirk from her face as she considered it could well have been Lizzie out there and they were fulfilling some kink of theirs, watching him do a woman that looked like her.

She didn't intend to stay for the night, and he hadn't asked her to. After he had ensured she had gotten off he had finished himself and remained quiet, tangled in the sheets, lost in thought as she dressed herself. He only spoke to tell her where her money was. There'd been no further movement from the balcony and he hadn't alluded to anybody else being out there. She waited until she had left his line of vision before whipping the wig off her head, leaving the suite with a wad of cash and her itching head full of questions about the mysterious man and his Lizzie.

* * *

_What I am to you is not real_  
What I am to you, you do not need

Liz stared at him through the window, fighting to control her breaking and stave off a panic attack, watching him lie alone in the oversized bed. Eventually he moved to slough off the sheets and fold his clothes in a manner that belied his Naval background. She held her breath and clenched her chattering teeth as she watched him reach for his fedora; the slight frown on his face as his gaze alighted on her note alarmed her and she began to look in earnest for a way off of the balcony. With no drainpipe or trellis in sight she returned her attention to the window and stopped stone still; he stood looking directly out at her, but he hadn't seen her through the voile, he was apparently lost in thought. Her note still in hand, he moved to the bed again and settled in, reading over her words carefully. He sat back and traced his lips with the corner of the paper, seeming to consider his reaction.

* * *

The bedroom light had been out for hours and she was unbearably cold on the balcony. With shaking hands she turned the handle to the door, giving silent thanks that the hinge made no sound. She tiptoed through the suite, mind so busy remembering where all the furniture was that she didn't spare so much as a glance in his direction; if she had, she wasn't sure she could handle one last look before she admitted defeat and left.

* * *

_What I am to you _  
_Is not what you mean to me_

As he sat up in bed, watching her navigate the room in the dark, he was torn. Her note had piqued his curiosity, certainly, but it wasn't until later that realisation dawned on him; the only window of opportunity she had to get into the suite was when he had left to meet his escort, and they had come straight back, wasting no time.

He felt a fool. She had to have seen everything; she wasn't so blind that she wouldn't have picked up on the striking similarity his company bore to her. His Lizzie. He'd all but given up on any thought of contacting her again, sure she would want nothing more to do with him. Yet here she was. His mind whirred into action, his heart rate increased and he felt a little more alive at the sudden, unexpected turn of events.

A flick of the bedside light switch and he had made his decision. She would not get away so easily.

* * *

She stopped dead in her tracks, inwardly cursing herself for not checking on him, and turned slowly on the spot, the warmth of the lamplight lending her tired features a healthier glow. She fixed her gaze at the foot of his bed, refusing to meet his eyes; she could feel his stare, knew he was looking her over, working out how many moves to checkmate.

"Hello, Lizzie," he greeted in a voice rougher than she recalled. It sent a shiver down her spine; part fear, part thrill.

"Red," she returned, though did not look at him. Heat bloomed in her cheeks at the shame of being caught, the obvious implication of how long she'd been there and what she'd witnessed hung heavy in the air between them.

"Did you enjoy the show?" he asked flatly.

"I didn't intend to spy on you."

"I don't doubt that," he conceded.

"I've read your note. Very even handwriting; what was it, the fifth or sixth time you penned it?"

"Seventh," she answered cautiously, unsure if she was imagining a hostile edge to his voice.

"You sent me away, Lizzie," he stated quietly.

"I did," she admitted.

"You told me never to come back, and I intended to keep my promise. With that in mind, why would you follow me all the way here? You're not here on taxpayers' money, are you?"

"I took vacation time."

"They don't know where you are?"

She shook her head. "And they don't know you're gone either, not yet," she added.

"Perfect." He rose from the bed and padded, nude, to the vanity to fetch a pair of loose linen trousers. "Take a seat," he offered, though she knew it was an order. Dread sat in a cold lump in the pit of her stomach; she knew he was dangerous beyond measure, and she wasn't so sure of his frame of mind now that she had invaded his privacy so blatantly. She perched nervously on the edge of the couch; he remained standing, placing himself directly between her and the door, making it clear that she wasn't leaving until they had talked.

_You give me miles and miles of mountains _  
_But I'll ask for the sea_

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Volcanoes' by Damien Rice. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.


	3. Chapter 3

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

**_The unknown distance to the great beyond  
Stares back at my grieving frame_**

"I shan't beat around the bush, Lizzie; why have you come here?"

"You know why, it's in the note."

"An over-drafted note that tells the abridged version," he added. "No, I'd rather hear it from you." When she didn't answer he tutted in disappointment. "I can wait all night; I'm very good at waiting, as you well know."

"I... I was wrong," she began, throat suddenly dry. He said nothing, waiting for her to go on. "I didn't want you to go, not really. I was angry, I needed an outlet and you were there, telling me what you'd done and how you'd done it," her voice wavered with still-raw emotion. "Who better to blame than the man who admitted to smothering my father?" Red opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed on. "And I know you told me it was what he wanted, but I didn't want to hear it there and then. Only after I realised you'd gone, really gone, did I stop to listen, and I panicked. Everything is going to fall apart now; the whole team, there'll be investigations... my whole life is my job and you're part of that too."

"Always 'just a job', then."

"No, you're part of my life, as you have reminded me constantly since the day you walked into it – you've been there longer than I know."

He swallowed thickly. "Go on."

She looked him in the eye then. "Don't you understand? I need you because I have nobody else. I need you because you know me, yet I know next to nothing about you. You have been there for me... through so much and I can't face the reality of you not being there. You're my anchor, Red, and... and I'm so... damn... sorry." Hot tears tracked their way down her cheeks and she tore her gaze from his to study the carpet, fighting to gain control over her raging emotions.

"That is what your note should have read, Lizzie," he spoke softly. "I told you before, I value honesty." He fell silent again, the only sound in the room her gasping breaths as she attempted to calm herself. "Thank you for coming here."

"You're not coming back with me, are you?" she asked weakly, though she knew the answer.

"No. I am finished with the FBI."

**_To cast my shadow by the holy sun  
My spirit moans with a sacred pain_**

"But why?"

"The immunity deal was a sham, Lizzie," he explained in a tone that told her she should've known. "I let them think they had me right where they wanted me for long enough. They had their chance to keep me in a hole for the rest of my days and they let me talk my way right out of it, all the while thinking they had the upper hand." He moved out of view, heading over to the vanity by the bed, and returned with a box of tissues for her.

"Thank you," she said weakly, wiping her face with a tissue, taking another for her nose. He set the box down on the side table nearest her before he moved to take a seat on the couch, though not too close to her. She felt the hostility had abated, but the tension borne from what she had unquestionably witnessed still remained. She fidgeted with the edges of her tissues as silence stretched between them. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly after realising he wasn't going to say anything.

* * *

**_It's quiet now  
The universe is standing still_**

He looked to the windows, intently studying the drop of the voile curtains; his jaw clenching and unclenching as he debated with himself. He was tired. Old and tired, and ashamed of his own weakness where she was concerned; a product of his upbringing and training, he knew, but still unshakeable.

"No," he uttered finally, voice so low and quiet it was almost lost in the short space between them. Still he did not turn to face her.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, and he snorted an embittered laugh.

"Forget everything you've seen. Don't try to deny it, Lizzie. You saw everything tonight, and I can't say I'm proud of myself so please save the lecture." He took slight comfort knowing the windows had been closed so she wouldn't have heard anything he'd been saying to the escort; had they not been, his shame would be unbearable and he had no doubt their conversation would have taken an entirely different, violent turn.

"I wasn't going to," she assured, some of the fire he was used to creeping back into her voice.

"Where are you staying?" he enquired, turning to face her.

"Sant'Orsola."

"I'll call Dembe to escort you back to your lodgings; that part of town attracts unsavoury characters in the early hours."

"But I thought we-"

"As enlightening as this conversation has been, I have business to attend to in the morning. I'm tired enough as it is."

"I'm not surprised."

"I'm not the young man I used to be. Besides, it's getting on for two thirty."

"She looked like me."

* * *

**_We're all that stands between the soul's release  
This temporary flesh and bone_**

He winced at her statement and she knew she'd hit a nerve; it both thrilled and frightened her.

"I didn't clock it at first, I just thought she didn't look as well turned out as most escorts you can afford. She looked... normal."

He said nothing, but he wasn't looking her in the eye anymore; while he still faced her his eyes were steadfastly trained on a spot on the wall behind her. She was making him supremely uncomfortable and she wasn't sure how to handle him in this state, having never witnessed it before. She steeled herself and pressed on.

"For two years we've worked side by side, we've become partners in crime and in justice. Two years is a long time, Red, and so much has happened. You understand my reasons for coming here, yes?" He nodded, though the movement was slight. "You wanted to hear my 'unabridged' piece; well, now I want the same from you." The tension was back, palpable and heavy. He sat stone still, not even blinking; it was as though he'd shut himself down, like he was steeling himself for torture. Could the key to besting him be so simple as to give him a taste of his own medicine? "Unless you're still playing games," she added for good measure, watching intently for his reaction.

When he still hadn't moved she stood, releasing a tired sigh; he would phone Dembe, eject her from his suite and she would be homeward bound tomorrow, alone again.

* * *

**_I know that it's over now  
I feel my faded mind begin to roam_**

Panic spurred him into action when she stood. He cleared his throat.

"For the longest time," he began uncertainly. She seated herself again, her eyes pleading him to continue, to give her answers she didn't know she wanted. "This hasn't been a game, not for a long while." He closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders, slouching where he sat, waiting for the weight of his words to register.

"You wanted her to look like me? To look normal?"

"She didn't look normal, she was beautiful."

"Red, I-"

"You shouldn't have come here, Lizzie. You shouldn't have seen what you saw."

"Actually, I think I should have known about this a long time ago." Her eyes softened and he felt a pang of regret at how he'd handled the situation. "You should've been honest with me, Red."

He sighed. "And what good would have come of it?"

"I want to know you, Red."

"You know more than most, Lizzie. Let that be enough."

"No." The sharpness of her response made him sit up a little straighter. She was still angry, he knew, but he wouldn't be the focus of her ire again; she'd be better off pouring it into her work on her return. "That's not enough for me and you know it."

"Be that as it may, it's all I'm giving up."

"Why can't you extend me the same courtesy you expect of me? Why can't you just tell me what this is about, what it's always been about?"

"You're not in danger anymore, if that puts you at ease."

"I don't even know why I was in danger in the first place, Red. I don't know why my husband was a spy, or why you've been following my life so closely. I don't understand any of it. Saying I'm no longer in danger doesn't help if I don't know what the danger was in the first place."

"The danger has been eliminated, there's nothing left." He saw anger flare in her eyes and braced himself for the oncoming tirade.

"Do you get off on knowing you've left me totally helpless in any environment outside of the office? Do you realise the suspicion I'll face from the people that are the closest thing to friends I have?" She stood again and began to pace. "Do you want to hear how I want to get away? To leave? That I came here hoping you might have some answers for me, as well as advice? That you might be able to point me in the right direction, as always? That you could solve all my problems and help me disappear?" She stopped and turned to face him, looking down at him with a conflicted expression. "Do you want me to hate you? Is that it? Would that make you feel better about all this?" she finished quietly.

He gave her a long, measured look, appearing unfazed by her agitated questions. "I really do think it's time you left, Lizzie," he said flatly before rising to fetch his cellphone to call Dembe.

* * *

**_Every time you fought and every time you tried  
Every foolish dream and every compromise_**

Liz felt sick to her stomach, watching as Red opened the suite door to admit his bodyguard; the crushing weight of failure settled on her shoulders as both men looked to her expectantly, coolly. Never taking her eyes off of Red, she slowly rose from her seat and made her way across the room. Words failed her as she neared them. Red stepped back and Dembe took her arm in a polite but firm hold, guiding her into the hallway to the elevator doors.

Dembe remained silent in the elevator down to the lobby, though there was no tension between them; as always, he was just following his orders and did not pause to judge her. She was on edge; it wasn't over for her, despite the finality in Red's tone she needed more from him to get anywhere near a sense of closure.

She wanted answers and she wanted... what? What did she really want? She wanted a new start, to up sticks and begin anew; he could provide her with the means to go that, she knew, but now the idea seemed hollow – it would do nothing to lessen her loneliness. She had more to say to him, even if he didn't want to hear it; more to show him. Seeing him with the prostitute affected her more than she initially wanted to admit. At first she had only been willing to think it disturbing because it wasn't a part of his life she needed to know about, let alone bear witness to; it wasn't so much a realisation as finally facing up to the fact she wanted to be that woman, she wanted the intensity of his attention... she wanted him, even though she wasn't sure what that entailed.

**_Every word you spoke and everything you said  
Everything you left me rambles in my head_**

In a snap decision she drew her fist to her side and pivoted, all her weight behind her as she drove her fist into Dembe's jaw, just below his ear. The heavy-set bodyguard crumpled to the floor, out cold, and she whispered profuse apologies as she stepped over his prone form and out of the elevator as soon as the doors slid open. She headed straight for the nearby stairwell door, grabbing the handrail and pulling herself up the first few steps before taking them two at a time; the tempo of the slap of her soles echoing in the stairwell matched the pounding of her racing heart as she urged herself on, not knowing how long Dembe would be out for. She had to get to Red, tell him what she really wanted, even if she wasn't entirely convinced it was a good idea.

* * *

**_There's nothing I can say  
There's nothing I can do now_**

He knocked back another brandy, standing next to the drinks cabinet staring at the wall. He felt aggrieved at himself; he cursed himself for not realising she had followed him. He supposed he deserved to be the focus of her ire; that she had seen him with the escort was one thing but that he had chosen that night to give in to his fantasy and find one that looked like Lizzie was unforgivable. He had stopped himself from doing it in DC, but cutting loose and leaving made him feel like doing something reckless, something just for him. He felt a complete fool.

He shuffled listlessly around his suite, feeling empty and alone, before moving back to the bed. He covered himself in the down duvet, missing the comforting weight of his customary blankets, and turned out the light. His tiredness soon began to win out over his self-deprecating train of thought. As he began to drift he told himself the pain of sending her away would lessen in time; he only hoped the same would be the case for her.

**_Everything you loved and every time you tried  
Everybody's watching, everybody cried_**

* * *

Her lungs burned and her legs felt like they wouldn't hold her weight much longer, adrenaline coursed through her system making her feel lightheaded as she burst through the door to the uppermost floor. She attempted to collect herself as she rapped on the suite door; she heard his muffled protests at being disturbed again, then trudging footsteps approaching on the other side. The door swung open inwards and she followed it, colliding with him and pinning him to the wall, intending to crush her lips to his but only half meeting them. She heard the door close and refused to open her eyes; he wasn't responding, he was just standing there, frozen.

**_Stay, don't leave me, the stars can wait  
For your sign, don't signal now_**

She counted to ten in her head and when he still hadn't moved a muscle she pulled away from him, bowing her head so as not to meet his eyes out of complete embarrassment; she felt like she had made enough of a fool of herself. She felt his eyes on her as she moved out of his personal space, still he remained pressed against the wall. Her shoulders slumped and she turned to leave the suite for the final time, realising the mistake she had made yet again; as she reached for the door, intending to close it on her way out, his hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist in an iron grip.

"You," he murmured.

She turned back to look at him, surprised to see such uncertainty etched across his features, and took a step toward him; she blinked a few times in confusion as she tried to come up with the question he was answering. She shook her head apologetically. "I don't-"

He held up a hand to stop her and exhaled slowly, breath ghosting across her cheek. "It's always been about you, Lizzie."

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Goodnight, Travel Well' by The Killers. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.


	4. Chapter 4

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

**_I've spent my life becoming invisible  
__It's hard to maintain  
__And it's hard to get by_**

He watched as she moved toward and past him, releasing her wrist as she went. She seated herself on the couch, back ramrod straight, eyes staring at the mantelpiece ahead; she looked for all the world like she was waiting to receive a blow – steeling herself for impact. He had no idea why he'd reacted by reaching out-

No, that was a lie.

He had wanted her to stay – of course he had – though it went against his better judgement, against everything he had been telling himself. He watched from the now closed door as her posture changed the longer she sat there in the silent suite; her back slouched, shoulders hunching inwards. She looked tired. She was hardly used to such travel. His phone buzzed on the bedside table by the bed – he crossed, barefoot and soundless, to retrieve it.

_SUBDUED IN ELEVATOR. ASSUME AGENT K IS WITH YOU? D._

He chuckled, startling her; she whipped around to look at him over the back of the couch with apprehensive eyes, evidently unaware he had moved from the doorway. He sent a quick missive back to confirm all was well and that Dembe would not be called on again; one of them could get some decent shuteye, at least.

The atmosphere between them was loaded and Red found himself at a rare loss. After everything he had been telling himself, that he would continue as usual and stay away, she was there in front of him; his self-proclaimed second chance presenting him with a third, and wasn't third time lucky?

"What did you do to Dembe?" he enquired.

She shrugged. "Knocked him out."

"No small feat," he commented. "I'm impressed."

They lapsed into silence. He moved to stand by the fireplace – now defunct, filled with an ostentatious flower arrangement – his back to her.

"Why did you want me to stay?"

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly, studying the pattern of the marble mantelpiece. "I confess, your tracking me down and this whole... encounter has confused me."

"Confused? How?"

"I was prepared to leave you to it, Lizzie; I really did intend to keep my distance, no matter how much it pained me to do so. I have been convincing myself that you would be safer, that I ought to get on with business as usual, even though..."

"Go on."

He turned around to face her. "There really isn't any fun in it anymore." He looked at the floor by her feet and concealed a yawn with the back of his hand. He was flagging from the exertion, both emotional and physical, of the night; the clock on the bedside table blinked angrily at him from the other side of the room – it was late, or early by now. He needed fresh air to clear his head and wake himself up; he would need to be more alert if their conversation was to remain as stilted as it had been so far.

"If you'll excuse me," he said politely, "I need a little air." She nodded and he headed out on to the balcony. The hair on his arms stood on end almost immediately and gooseflesh broke out across his bare torso as he breathed in the chilly air of the early hours, feeling enlivened by the clarity it gave him. The breeze from the night before had ceased and the few sounds of the city died before they reached him; the world was still and practically silent from where he stood at the railing, only the faint sound of the Arno's flow reaching him in the dark. The suite door opened quietly behind him and Lizzie entered his periphery, coming to stand next to him; they stood in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and unsure of how to get out of the peculiar state they found themselves in.

* * *

**_I don't recall fight or flight setting in  
_****_I have no introduction  
_****_I just breathe it like the air_**

"It must be near sunrise," she commented, breaking the quiet.

He nodded. "It's quite something to see from here." He paused before turning to her. "Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be nice, thanks."

He gave awkward twitch of his lips – the smallest of smiles – before he disappeared into the suite, leaving the door open, making a beeline for the coffee maker; as the machine softly whirred to life he retrieved a small tray and loaded it with two cups and a small bowl of sugar, remembering the spoons just before the machine beeped to signal its task was complete. En route to the suite door he stopped, precariously balanced the tray on his forearm, snatched up a pullover and the hotel provided bathrobe, and threw them both over his shoulder. At the door he stopped and took in the vision before him; Lizzie stood, her back to him, framed by the vista of Florence and the Arno, the dawn light lightening the sky beyond her.

* * *

**_I owe you nothing  
_****_That's all I've got for you_**

She felt his presence on the balcony, and knew he hadn't moved from the door, however she refused to turn around. She heard as he set the tray down and followed his movements by sound; sugar cubes hitting the bottom of a china cup, the satisfying glug of the carafe as he poured the hot coffee, the tinkling of a spoon on china, and his quiet – but not silent – footsteps as he approached her. She turned to face him then, unable to help the small smile that crossed her face on seeing him with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a white fluffy bathrobe in the other. She took the robe and wrapped it around herself, warding off the chill of the morning.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the proffered mug and wrapping her hands around it, the warmth of the coffee seeping into her cold fingers. "You really do thing of everything, don't you?"

"An irritating habit?" he asked, pulling his own sweater over his head.

"Only sometimes." She eyed his pullover. "That colour suits you."

He shrugged, moving to pick up his own coffee. "I know my palette."

"I don't wear olive anymore," she supplied.

"I know," he replied. Although it seemed to her that he meant to elaborate further, she decided against pressing the matter; instead they lapsed into a very slightly more comfortable silence, both their attentions returned to the brightening landscape below them.

"I missed you too," she confided quietly after a time, her gaze still resolutely fixed on the city sprawl.

He turned his head to regard her, brows raised in mock disbelief. "Really?"

"I told you, you've become a big part of my life, Red. I didn't realise how big a part, or how much I missed you being around until I got here."

"A lavish, yet impersonal, hotel suite?" He rolled his eyes.

She shook her head and smiled sadly. "Not the suite. The suits, the intentionally placed spare fedora on the sideboard; the deliberate way you arrange the few possessions you travel with. It was your scent that affected me most, though; it was a comfort, it made me sure I'd made the right decision to come here."

"Until I returned unexpectedly," he added flatly and she winced at the truth of it; if he had been out all night she would have remained in the suite to drink in as much of him as possible before leaving to wait for him to come and find her or to ignore her apology completely.

* * *

**_And you'll borrow nothing  
_****_That's what you expect of me_**

They each sipped at their steaming mugs. Before he had turned away he noted that her eyes seemed a little brighter, and he hoped it had nothing to do with the sunlight.

Aside from amusement at her admittance to now avoiding olive, he had stopped himself from highlighting to her just how much it told him about the change in her feelings toward him; he had known she would listen to him eventually, perhaps trust him tenuously at best – such was the nature of their relationship – he never wanted her to trust him without question... to do so would be foolish on her part, and she was no fool.

He made an effort to appear relaxed, leaning on the railing, his eyes fixed on the brightening horizon. He fished a small cylinder from his pocket and produced a cigar, ignoring the wrinkling of her nose as he lit it with a match, closing his eyes to enjoy the flavours. The tension between them had dissipated somewhat, leaving awkward periods of quiet in its wake, though they were shorter each time; perhaps their relationship could be salvaged, he considered as he exhaled slowly through his nose.

* * *

**_So you send me your love  
_****_Tied up in sailor's knots_****_  
_**

Words unspoken, like his cigar smoke, hung in the air between them; she felt the weight of them, urging her to say or do something, though she didn't know what. She felt lame, tired, and more than a little lost in the events of the early morning hours; she noted that Red didn't seem much better off, which both unsettled and pleased her. He was, after all, only human; she had always secretly thrilled on the few occasions that she had the ability to shake him up, to challenge him, no matter how out of depth they both knew she was.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked in a smaller voice than she intended.

"I'm not sure," he replied tiredly.

"You're not sure? Are you being serious?"

"Quite." He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair before dropping his arm back to the railing with a dull _thunk_ that she knew would leave a bruise. The Red next to her wasn't the one she was used to, and it was starting to bother her. She could think of nothing to say that might bring him out of the funk he appeared to be slipping into, so she decided to drop it and return to the stifling silence they were so well acquainted with by now.

* * *

**_And I fear underneath  
The weight of your thoughts_**

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" he said, attempting light-heartedness but not quite succeeding. When she didn't respond he tried another tack. "Circumstances have changed for the both of us. Perhaps we've changed more than we realise."

"What do you mean?"

He sensed they had arrived at a metaphorical precipice, though just what waited after the long drop to the bottom was more variable than he was comfortable with.

**_My footsteps now  
_****_They will echo too loudly_**

"I missed you before I'd even left," he started quietly. He was treading carefully, he knew; it was habit for him not to give everything away, though this time he forged ahead regardless of habit. "It's no surprise to me that I felt that way. It took leaving for me to realise..."

"Red, I'm not sure-"

"I've found myself quite... irrevocably... in love with you." He winced at hearing himself speak, the words not really doing justice to the emotional turbulence they referenced. He looked at the paving stones beneath their feet, studying them as though they were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. "Have been for quite some time." He sniffed derisively. "Foolish of me, really," he finished, affecting a flippant air despite feeling that he was in well over his head.

* * *

**_You told me something  
_****_That scared me to death_**

She blinked at him, unable to form an appropriate response to his quiet confession.

Her reeling mind cast her back to just hours before; the experience of watching him with the prostitute had made her stomach turn, initially just from the fact that she had never thought of him in such a way, but afterward she recognised the queasy feeling for what it was – gnawing jealousy. Especially after she put two and two together with the woman bearing such a resemblance to her, and his admittance of the fact.

**_Don't take me home  
_****_I can't face that yet_**

She wasn't sure when it had happened, or how, but she knew she felt something for him, something as yet unlabelled and intangible... but it was there and it was deep-rooted, that much she could admit.

She still had no idea how to react.

* * *

**_I'm ashamed that I'm barely human_**

Her lack of response served to strengthen his original belief that she couldn't return his feelings. He didn't want to bring her down to his level. He closed himself off, knowing he would face his emotions at a later time of his choosing. He would need to arrange for her travel back to her hotel; she would go back to the States and get on with her life. Maybe Ressler would finally weasel his way into her pants; his stomach roiled at the very thought of another – unworthy – man pawing at her and he glared at the horizon, forcing himself to calm down.

**_And I'm ashamed that  
_****_I don't have a heart you can break_**

So lost was he in the whorl of his internal conflict that he didn't notice how she had inched closer to him along the balcony railing. The touch of her hand on his arm had him pivoting around to face her, startled; he looked down from her face to the hand that remained on his arm, her grip sure but light. She took his other arm then, and he allowed her to guide his hands to sit on her waist; he didn't dare move them for fear she might leave at any moment.

**_I'm just action  
_****_And at other times reaction_**

He felt outside of himself, watching blankly as she moved in closer to place her lips on his jaw before making her way around to his mouth, dropping feather-light kisses as she went; when she finally pressed her lips softly to his he shut down. Still at odds with himself, the war started all over again.

* * *

**_All I own, all I own  
_****_Strides I spend to the finish line  
_****_I'll give you those_**

She had surprised him again, she figured, as he didn't move a muscle as before; this kiss was different though, she hadn't pinned him violently to a wall and the element of desperation was absent. If she couldn't tell him she was damn well determined to show him the depth of her growing, if sometimes tentative, feelings for him.

Eventually he responded, his lips yielding to the will of hers, melding and then exerting his own pressure in return; he tasted like cigar smoke and fresh coffee, and she was intoxicated by the rich combination. His fingers flexed on her hips and he pulled her toward him before his arms came around her, squeezing her to him, as though she might disappear if he didn't hold her there; she considered she just might have done, had he not answered her questing lips.

She pulled away, her hand on his chest sensing the hammering of his heart as his eyes searched hers. Unable to give him answers to questions he hadn't asked her, she rested her head under his chin, her hands looping over his shoulders, nails scraping idly at the nape of his neck.

"Don't make me go home," she pleaded into his neck, filling her nose with the scent of him and feeling like she was already there.

**_Give me something to remember_**

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Nothing to Remember' by Neko Case. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or any of the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.


	5. Chapter 5

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

**_When the rain is blowing in your face  
_****_And the whole world is on your case_**

Red left her to take a short shower, offering her the use of his wardrobe if she wished to stay. Liz felt as though he had withdrawn, his tone a little more business-like than she had expected, the suggestion that she might like to stay vocalised in an almost flippant aside. Tamping down on her anxiety and niggling doubts that insisted he was just humouring her she opened the drawers he had gestured to as he passed and found herself some sleepwear; the pinstriped cotton shorts fell way below her knees and the ribbed undershirt clung to her breasts far too closely for her liking so she decided to forgo it completely and slipped his discarded sweater over her head instead, the sinfully soft cashmere a delight against her skin.

She drew the curtains against the early morning sunlight before she turned down the duvet and crawled into the bed, thankful he hadn't been under the covers with the prostitute or she'd never have been able to get in; the thought flooded her mind with flashes of what they had been doing and she found herself feeling more uncomfortable by the second, forcing herself to focus instead on the sounds of Red in the bathroom to distract herself. Eventually the shower shut off and she followed his movements behind the closed door of the en suite; footfalls on the tiled floor, a towel flapping as he rigorously dried, the clearing of his throat, a faucet turning on, the hum of an electric toothbrush – she wouldn't have taken him for an electric toothbrush user, not that she'd ever had cause to consider it before.

At the turning of the handle to the bathroom door she snapped her eyes shut, unsure of whether he was dressed or not; despite the kiss they had shared, the fact that he had been walking around nude and that she had watched him bed another woman without so much as a stitch on, she wasn't quite ready to be at eye level with his- she winced at her own thoughts, if he caught her grimace as he rounded the bed to his side he said nothing, just slid under the covers and flicked the bedside lamp off.

Liz lay what felt like miles away from him in the overlarge bed, yet she was surrounded by him, his physicality permeated even the air she was breathing. She shifted her head to get more comfortable and felt the dampness of the pillow, realising that tears were flowing from her closed eyes; she sniffled, cursing herself for the ugly sound in the quite of the suite, and heard the bedcovers rustle as he turned to face her. A sob escaped as she took a gulp of air, panic rising. She wasn't sure why she was crying, she wasn't sad... perhaps it was relief at knowing she hadn't lost the man she had so carelessly tossed aside just days before, and frustration at having no clear solution to the emotional predicament she found herself in. The mattress dipped as Red sidled closer to her and raised an arm for her; she turned into him and buried her head in the crook of his neck, sobbing openly and uncontrollably, clutching at him with a confused desperation.

**_I could offer you a warm embrace_**

* * *

**_When the evening shatters and the stars appear  
_****_And there's no one there to dry your tears_**

She had told him he was her anchor and he was more than happy to continue to be that to her, seafaring metaphors aside; he held her as she was wracked with emotion, wincing in the dim light as her nails dug into his side from time to time, and when her sobs eventually faded into hiccoughs and her grip on him slackened he did not relinquish his hold on her, instead tracing soothing circles on her back. Softly, he shushed her, his roughened hand coming to cradle her head, thumb swiping away the last of her tears. She quietened but did not move from her place, nestled in his embrace; he relished in the sense of purpose he derived from offering her comfort, being there for her.

After several long moments she pushed gently against his chest and he loosened his embrace enough for her to turn away from him, though she did not move away completely – she had room to, he knew – likely she was just getting more comfortable on the shoulder she usually slept on. He felt his own shoulder protesting at his weight – an old injury – and with regret he pulled away from her to roll on to his back, staring up at the ceiling illuminated by the daylight that bled through the curtains, one hand resting on her back for reassurance that he was still there.

**_I could hold you for a million years_**

* * *

**_I know you haven't make your mind up yet  
_****_But I would never do you wrong_**

She lay awake and wondered if there was any chance she could convince him to return with her, each scenario more absurd than the last; they could finish up his list and work out exactly where, if anywhere, their relationship was headed. She reprimanded herself almost immediately for thinking as she was, knowing she would be dragging him back to certain incarceration; he had told her his immunity deal was bogus and she didn't doubt it. Diane Fowler was a shrewd woman and that she had been missing for almost a year didn't change the way things were run, if anything they were worse, more bureaucratic; there had been an underlying sense of foreboding in the team at the Post Office since Garrick's siege, everybody was jumpy, as though the world might come crashing down around them all over again. If wasn't beyond the realms of possibility, she considered.

Her train of thought switched and images of the escort invaded her mind again, entwined with the man lying next to her, and she wished she'd had the good sense to look away hours before. Once again she was hyper-aware of what had occurred where she was currently lying, of how much both parties seemed to be enjoying themselves, paid or not; her discomfort was blended with a generous helping of jealousy – she hadn't been the recipient of such passion and attentiveness since before he had uttered "I do" to a man that never existed.

* * *

**_I've known it from the moment that we met  
_****_No doubt in my mind where you belong_**

He knew she wasn't close to sleep. He was in a similar state, physically and emotionally exhausted but mentally wired; he wanted to know what was running through her head at a million miles an hour – no doubt she was trying to work out the best way to bring him back to the States and somehow stop the inevitable imprisonment that awaited him. He smiled to himself, she really was too much; she'd take the world on for a cause she believed in, she'd always been that way, but he didn't want to be another cause to her. He didn't need her to stand up for him in a fight he had no intention of participating in – he knew how to pick his battles.

"Sleep, Lizzie," he murmured.

"I'm trying," came her agitated mutter.

He chuckled softly. "Trying too hard?"

"Probably." She sighed. "I might try the couch."

"You'll do no such thing."

"I can't stay in this bed."

"Because of what you saw." He didn't bother phrasing it as a question; they both knew the reason for her discomfort.

"You think?" She snorted. "I can't stop thinking about it, Red. She was all over this bed... all over you. I'm sorry, I just can't."

"How many hotels have you stayed in, Lizzie?"

She sat up, the duvet pooling around her. "I'm not naïve, Red. I know what goes on behind closed doors, but I didn't know those people, and I sure as hell wasn't there when they were fucking each other into the mattress."

"Really, Lizzie-"

"Whatever, okay? This isn't an argument for you to win. I'll be on the couch."

At her adamance he abandoned his attempt to sit up and let himself drop back to the mattress, fingers massaging his temples to ease the tension headache he could feel coming on. This was not how he foresaw spending the morning hours. He listened to her shuffle to the couch, drop her pillow down on it, and move to the windows to whip the curtains more tightly closed in the other half of the quite. The space grew quiet between them again as they settled down but he was unable to relax sufficiently as he was all too aware she wasn't sleeping.

"I can hear the cogs turning from here, Lizzie. What is it?"

"Why aren't we talking about things?"

Red sighed and flipped the covers back, rising from the bed; he wasn't going to have a conversation with the back of the couch. He grabbed the hotel bathrobe she had left on the chair by the balcony doors and slipped into it as he padded to the couch.

"Where would you like to begin?" he asked, standing before her. He clocked her looking him up and down in the open robe before she averted her eyes.

She shrugged, now studying the rug. "I don't know."

"Not a great place to start." If she didn't start talking soon he knew he'd start to grumble.

"I don't know where to start, Red." She huffed. "What do you think we need to address first?"

"Are you going to try to bring me back to the States?"

She gave him a long, measured look – he recognised it as one of his own, and it unnerved him to realise how much he'd rubbed off on her.

"No," she answered in a firm, even tone. "You wouldn't come anyway, but no I wouldn't ask you to go back. I don't even want to go back." She brought her hand up to her forehead. "I don't even know what I'm doing, Red. How did we get here?"

He sat down heavily beside her on the couch. "We were caught in a web of lies and deceit spun by those that knew us best. We've been making the best of bad situations, Lizzie."

"Am I the best of a bad situation?" she asked, sounding lost. He felt a pang in his chest to hear her, wanting to keep her from tipping over the edge of falling apart all over again.

"Never." He shook his head slightly. "You have never been that, and you never will be."

"I'm hardly first choice though. I mean... Luli, Madeline... all of them were so much better than me, and don't say they weren't because that's bullshit."

"You think I'm lying?" He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the morning stubble rough against his palm. "You have never been second best, Lizzie. You may not attend high society functions in designer gowns, and you may have come from humble roots, but that does not make you any less special to me. Do you understand?"

"I- no. I don't understand. You've never told me why I was so important to you in the first place."

He sighed; it always came back to this, and he couldn't make her understand while he was not at liberty to reveal anything to her. "The truth would put you in danger that I cannot protect you from. It's not worth the current risk, Lizzie. It will all come out eventually, but only when it's safe."

**_I'd go hungry I'd go black and blue  
_****_I'd go crawling down the avenue_**

"I haven't felt safe in a long time," she confided after a period of contemplative quiet.

"You've been safer than you think," he assured.

"You've been watching over me, though."

"And I would have continued to do so, from afar," he admitted. She nodded her understanding, though still looked a little out of the game. They fell into familiar silence again and he let his head drop back on the couch, eyeing the moulded plasterwork of the ceiling; despite everything, he would never have truly left her alone.

"Where would you have gone?"

"Back to business."

"If you had to stay in one place?"

He thought of several locations, but only one really stood out to him. "Ticino."

She smiled. "I don't even know where that is."

"Switzerland."

"Tell me about it?" she asked, settling back into the couch, curling her legs under herself, evidently awaiting a story.

"Why don't you go and see it for yourself?"

"With you?" she asked, hope flickering in her eyes.

He chuckled at the idea, but inwardly was sorely tempted to whisk her off to the little town he was so fond of. Her face fell into a slight frown at his reaction and he regarded her for a time, watching as she flustered under his gaze before she gathered herself and brought her eyes up to meet his own.

"What is it that you want, Lizzie?" he asked, voice serious and low. The tension he had hoped they would not revisit began to creep back into the atmosphere of the suite.

"There's nothing for me back there now," she replied quietly. "Not without you there."

"Lizzie, you need to tell me exactly what it is you want from me. I've told you far too much these past few hours; I won't have you yanking my chain for a get out only to never see hide nor hair of you again."

"Can you help me?"

He nodded. "You need only ask."

She said nothing, just reached out her hand to take his, entwining their fingers together; they both looked at their clasped hands and questions never seriously posed hung in the air around them. He sensed an understanding pass between them; if this were to happen it wouldn't – couldn't – be a one-time thing, especially not for him. He sincerely hoped he'd read the signals correctly because he wouldn't be letting her go, he wasn't prepared for that now.

**_No there's nothing that I wouldn't do_**

* * *

**_The storms are raging on the rolling sea  
_****_And on the highway of regret_**

Liz felt the change in atmosphere around them, saw the darkening of his eyes as his pupils dilated. She thought she ought to say something, do something to put him off so they could continue the conversation, but she found herself looking him over again. Sitting next to her in nothing but flimsy pyjama pants and an open bathrobe, the light colours of his garments accentuating his lightly tanned skin; despite practically always finding him near food of some sort he kept a trim figure with only a slight paunch when he was seated. Only when her overtired inner monologue spoke of fondling his paunch did she realise that she was staring, and made the effort to return her gaze to meet his own. He was regarding her with eyes almost unfamiliar to her – it was borderline predatory. He looked hungry, and she knew her own expression was mirroring the same sentiment though still felt a little like a rabbit caught in headlights.

He leaned in first, though she quickly made up the remaining distance, the kiss a mess of teeth, lips and tongues until they fell into a more languorous rhythm, breathing heavily as they each drank the other in. She touched him first, hands skimming up his torso to push the bathrobe from his frame before pulling at his shoulders to bring him closer. His fingers traced up and down her sides before venturing under the cashmere sweater to repeat the same action before she took the initiative and pulled the garment over her head, baring herself to his gaze and the chilly air of the room.

She felt outside of herself, not really convinced that she wasn't dreaming; a couple of kisses and agreeing to share his bed for the purpose of sleeping were entirely different to being naked on a couch with the Concierge of Crime's head between her legs. Her thoughts were effectively silenced when he set to work on her, tongue tracing, dipping and laving everywhere except where she absolutely needed him to be; after teasing her for what he deemed long enough he took to using the flat of his tongue, swiping up the length of her sex once, twice, three times before focusing intently on her clit. As she began to tremble with each lapping movement of his tongue, his middle finger teased at her entrance before working its way inside, soon joined by its neighbour and curled; as soon as her moans told him he had found that spot she had only previously heard about, he launched an all-out sensual assault on her. Before long she was a breathless, undulating mess of shaking limbs, unable to keep her cries quiet for the sake of the neighbouring hotel guests, hands gripping the sides of his head. With a final swipe of tongue and pump of fingers she screamed, freefalling into ecstasy, darkness creeping around the edges of her vision as he continued his movements to prolong the experience for her.

Hot breath preceded open mouthed kisses up her torso as she came back to herself, his presence beside her heavy and radiating a feverish heat; fingertips traced up and then down her arms, eliciting shivers, before he found her hands and pulled her off the couch with him. On unsteady legs she teetered along with him – God, his hands were everywhere – only to be left standing next to the bed, feeling bereft of him but soon amused to watch him whip the duvet and pillows off the mattress, leaving them in a pile on the floor; he would never know how appreciated and symbolic that gesture was.

She held out her arms to him as he rounded the bed and approached her, walking into her embrace before lowering her to the cool mattress; she slid herself backwards as he crawled up and over her, his movements suddenly still as she reached under the waistband of his pyjama pants and wrapped her hand around him. He dropped his head to watch what she was doing to him, releasing a shaky breath as he fought for control; she revelled in the power she had over the usually unflappable man, how he became like putty under her hands. She tightened her grip and stroked him a little harder while scraping the back of his head with the nails of her free hand, only to have him reach down to stop her from continuing; she understood his silent reasoning and opted instead to push the pyjama pants off his hips and down his legs for him to kick to the floor. Before she could get a good look at him he had her in the middle of the bed and had lowered himself between her legs and looked at her, as though he wanted her permission to continue; even now he left the choice up to her. She drew him down into a slow, searching kiss, reaching down between them to position him at her entrance. Had she not been so aware of his reactions she might have missed the way he tensed as he moved forward, and the low moan he tried to stifle as he slid home; she too found herself vocalising her pleasure at being so deliciously filled by him, to claim and be claimed.

The pace he set was slow, controlled; she could sense he was trying to prolong their joining as much as he could, despite his tiredness. She pushed on his shoulder, indicating he should move to lie down; she followed his movement and straddled his waist, reaching behind herself to find him again, rising up to position him before sinking slowly down his length. She moved experimentally, finding the right angle, hands splayed across his chest to steady herself as she picked up the pace. With each downward stroke his pelvis caught on her clit, sending thrills of sensation radiating from her core.

Red surprised her by raising himself up on his elbows, forcing her to slow her movements as he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. He pulled her down into a smouldering kiss, teeth clashing in their desperation to drink in as much of each other as possible, drawing his legs up behind her to change her angle again. Steadying herself, hands now at his shoulders, she began to move with renewed vigour, relishing the angle and the building fire inside her. Each time she raised herself he pulled her back down on to him until their pace became frantic; his mouth worshipped her breasts and his hands kneaded her ass while her nails dug into his shoulders and her teeth scraped at the side of his neck as they raced toward their long overdue completion.

Liz came apart first, hearing her impassioned cry somewhere in the distance as she convulsed around him, clinging to him for stability as she rode out her second powerful orgasm. Red continued to move within her until he too came with a strangled grunt, all eloquence and loquaciousness lost as he shuddered against her, mumbling her name into the valley between her breasts as they continued to rock lethargically against each other. Later, she would look back on their first time together and realise that it was completely different to how he had been with the escort, that this level of passion was reserved for the real thing only.

Once they had come back to themselves, he bestowed a final slow kiss upon her before allowing her to extricate herself from him and was thankful for the relative darkness of the room as she made the embarrassing, knees-together, post-sex dash for the toilet, leaving the door open in her haste. She heard him rustle around, and the tell-tale sound of tissues being pulled from a box before all fell silent outside the bathroom. On her return to the bedroom she found him sleeping, dead to the world, on his back. With a sated smile she gently drew the sheet, which had ended up at the bottom of the bed, up and over him before sliding in next to him.

**_The winds of change are blowing wild and free  
_****_You ain't seen nothing like me yet_**

It didn't take long for her to realise sleep would not come to her as easily as it had for Red. Her mind raced with all the things she should have done differently; echoes of the terrible things she had said to him in the two years they had worked together, especially in the beginning. She was sure he'd killed people for less than the carelessly harsh words she had thrown at him, yet he still showed her courtesy and now such tenderness and trust.

Looking down at his sleeping countenance, features relaxed, lying still aside from the even rise and fall of his chest, she felt her heart melt a little; he wasn't just a big part of her life, he was her life. She was aware that the fog of her confusion was lifting and she felt liberated to allow herself to feel the weight of her admiration, respect and growing love for the gradually unravelling enigma that shared his bed with her.

She still found herself unsure of where to go next. She didn't want to return to the States, but it was in her best interest to; she wasn't sure whether or not Red would help her out if she did want to disappear and at the back of her mind she knew that to disappear would feel like running away – which it was – and Sam had not brought her up to run away from her problems.

* * *

**_I could make you happy make your dreams come true  
_****_Nothing that I wouldn't do_**

Red woke slowly to a tickling sensation running from his shoulder down his bicep; he soon recognised it to be fingertips lightly, almost reverently, tracing his tattoo and the angry scar that crossed it. There would be a barrage of questions about the meaning behind it in the near future, he had no doubt – he was surprised she hadn't brought it up earlier. He turned himself over to lie on his front, propping his bristly chin on folded arms as he turned his head to look at her sleepily.

"Good morning," he greeted, voice gravelly from slumber, unable to hide the contented smile playing about his lips. Wrapped up in most of the sheet and with sleep and sex mussed hair, she looked positively radiant.

"Morning," she returned sheepishly, unaware of the effect she was having on him. "I thought you had business today?"

He nodded. "This evening, yes."

She raised a brow, something she had picked up from him. "So you lied to me earlier?"

"Not at all." He paused to stifle a yawn. "I planned to indulge in lunch and a little retail therapy this afternoon."

"Do you want me to leave?" He was confused by her sudden look of uncertainty; surely he had made it quite clear he wanted her around for as long as he could keep her there.

"I think the question is whether or not you want to leave."

She looked uncomfortable. "I thought maybe you could help me out," she said awkwardly.

"That's not an answer."

"Don't you have a basic package or something?"

He snorted, though found her all the more appealing when she was flustered. "You couldn't afford the basic package, Lizzie."

"Well what would you have me do then?"

He regarded her for a long moment, considered everything he had said to her out on the balcony, the way he had felt even when he thought they would only be sleeping in the same bed; their carnal exploits were surplus to his expectation and he knew there was no going back for him now. It was all or nothing. "Stay," he uttered, realising he had become lost in his own thoughts and that she was looking at him with concern.

"Where?" He fought the urge to roll his eyes. If he didn't know better he would have thought she was playing at being dense – sometimes she really couldn't see the forest for the trees; it was endearing for the most part, but at times like this he found himself uncomfortable enough saying things once, let alone needing to explain himself further.

"Here, with me. For now. Perhaps Paris next week. Wherever my business takes me." She was silent, though he couldn't tell whether or not she understood what he was asking of her. "Unless you'd rather have a more permanent base?" At her questioning look he decided to elaborate further. "You know I travel constantly. If you're not up to the constant moving around you can choose somewhere – I'll have it vetted, of course – and if it's up to standard you can reside there for as long as you wish." He was becoming bothered by her continued silence. He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, sitting on the edge with his back to her so as not to bear witness to any continued confusion on her part, or –worst case – rejection. "Do you understand what I am asking you, Lizzie?"

"I... maybe I need some time to think," she confirmed and his stomach flip-flopped as his mind immediately latched on to the worst case scenario, that she would leave him and return to the States. Inwardly he cursed himself for leaving himself so vulnerable to her.

"Perhaps you should take the rest of the day for yourself," he suggested in a more formal tone, forcibly closing his emotions off. "I leave at midday tomorrow."

He would not beg her to remain with him.

**_Go to the ends of the earth for you  
_****_To make you feel my love_**

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Make You Feel My Love' by Bob Dylan. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.


	6. Chapter 6 - Epilogue

**BEASTS OF BLAME BY NATURE**

**CHAPTER SIX – EPILOGUE**

* * *

**_The stars in my eyes  
_****_Well they twinkle when I see your face_**

The warm summer breeze caressed her bare shoulders and toyed with the flyaway hairs at the nape of her neck as she observed the city lights in the distance, their reflections shimmering across Lake Lugano. Red had been right about Ticino, it was a truly beautiful place, with its favourable climate and quaint Mediterranean charm despite being in Switzerland; she understood within a week of being in the city why he said he would choose it as a permanent base.

A large wine glass entered her periphery and she turned to accept it, smiling her thanks before turning back to the vista she couldn't get enough of – it was the reason she had chosen the place. She toyed with the stem of the glass, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger, before she switched it to her left hand in order to entwine the fingers of her right with his. She sighed contentedly, the sound breaking the peaceful evening.

**_The butterflies keep flying  
_****_Flying all over the place_**

"Happy?" he enquired, leaning on the railing with his own wine glass dangling over the edge.

"Immeasurably," she responded with a smile which fell a little when she realised the reason for her current contentment would come to an end all too soon. "I wish you didn't have to leave again so soon."

"This will be my last trip for a while," he assured. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Will Dembe be coming to stay when you get back?" She missed the long chats she had with the usually quiet bodyguard; he had become a close friend to her and served as a confidante to them both, often bemused by their occasional spats which were usually over nothing.

"I think he's earned a long holiday," he commented, eliciting a laugh from her – he was right, his friend was long overdue a break from his duty. "So," he continued, moving behind her, "you have me all to yourself." His free arm wrapped around her midsection and his chin rested lightly on her shoulder. "I fear you'll be terribly bored with me," he jested, voice rumbling through her back deliciously.

"I'm sure I can find something for you to do. The crack in the bathroom ceiling's back again."

He shrugged behind her. "I'll get a man in."

"Raymond Reddington, are you saying you're not a man?" she teased, setting her wine glass down on the nearby table.

"Oh, quite the contrary. I just envisioned our quality time together being spent on more... pleasurable pursuits," he responded animatedly, tone laced with suggestion. "You know, I don't have to leave until tomorrow afternoon," he murmured, his breath ghosting across the shell of her ear, "something about maintenance on the jet," he elaborated, fingers tracing patterns on her abdomen, encouraging her desire until they abruptly stopped. "Something wrong with your wine?"

**_The dark and grey  
_****_Well it fits with the black and white_**

She dropped her head back to rest on his shoulder. "No, I'm just thinking of better things to do with our quality time together than standing out here drinking."

"Ah, well as the old adage goes, all great minds think alike," he murmured, turning his head to plant a kiss on her temple. She laughed softly and allowed him to lead her across the paved balcony and into the sanctuary of the villa they had come to call home, privately reveling in the hunger clouding his eyes, knowing it was only for her.

At the back of her mind she resolved to wait until he returned from his trip before she gave him the news that they would soon be a family, the hope that he would decide to remain at home burning in her chest as she followed him up the stairs to their bedroom. A new chapter in their story was poised to begin and she had every intention of ensuring it was the best one yet.

**_All I see is life  
_****_Life in a beautiful light_**

* * *

Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Life in a Beautiful Light' by Amy MacDonald. I do not own the lyrics used, The Blacklist, or the characters depicted in this work of fanfiction. I am making no money from this.**_  
_**


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